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SIvor  BenMIIvor 


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COTCH  lOAST/' 


COTCH  LO/^SJf 


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SCOTTISH  TOASTS 


COTCH  lOAST/' 


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ILL, 
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WSV  YORK  AfJP  EOSTOW 


Copyright,  igoS 
BY  H.  M.  CALDWELL  Co. 


Electrotyped  and  Printed  by 
THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 
C.  H.  Simotids  &  Co.,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


INTRODUCTION 


Whenever  and  wherever  Scotchmen 
foregather  the  spirit  of  friendship  and 
festivity  is  in  the  air. 

To  be  able  to  say  the  right  thing  at 
the  right  moment  is  to  contribute  to 
the  harmony  of  such  occasions.  This 
little  book  is  offered  as  an  aid  to  all 
who  would  do  so  —  and  it  has  been 
arranged  so  that  Toasts,  Sentiments 
and  expressions  of  Conviviality,  Love 
and  Friendship  of  varying  character 
and  for  all  occasions  come  ready  to 
hand.  Here  separately  grouped  are 
Patriotic  Toasts,  Convivial  Toasts,  Sen- 
timents of  Love  and  Friendship,  Toasts 
to  the  Women,  Humourous  Toasts,  and 
a  budget  of  Miscellaneous  Toasts  and 
Sentiments  from  which  to  pick  and 
choose  at  will. 

Here  also  is  a  store  of  good  stories ; 


s 


COTCH 


when  toasts  are  not  in  order  a  good 
story  is  always  in  order.  The  best  of 
all  good  stories  are  among  the  Scotch 
ones  and  these  are  of  the  kind  that 
are  ever  welcome  at  the  festive  board. 
And  the  compiler  of  this  little  book,  to 
use  the  language  of  the  Toast  Master 
of  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  "bids 
you  a  right  hearty  good  welcome " 
and  drinks  to  all  his  brother  Scots  in  a 
Loving  Cup. 


TCH  1OA.ST/ 


9  o  i 


(Off 


CONTENTS 


fr 


Introduction   ...... 

Menu      ....... 

Patriotic  Toasts      ..... 

Patriotic  Scotsmen         .        .        .        . 

Toasts  to  Women,  Love,  Friendship,  etc. 

Convivial  and  Humourous   Toasts  and 

Sentiments      ..... 

Some  After  Dinner  Stories  ... 
Miscellaneous  Toasts  and  Sentiments  . 
Scottish  Toasts:  A  Miscellany  .  . 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


Edinburgh   Pen   and 
Pencil   Club 


Scotch  Nicht. 


I 

^ 


# 


"  And  noo  a  rantin'  feast  weel  stored, 
Saurs  sweetly  on  the  festive  board." 

Picketi's  Poems. 


A  grace  (but  no)  as  lang's  my  arm."  —  Burns. 


o'  fare. 


Powsowdie  and  Cockie-leekie. 

«*  Wi'  rowth  o'  reekin'  kail  supply 
The  inward  man." 

Ferguson. 

ix 


"""•IMIIII ii.n,.        -^ 

COTCHiOAST/' 


Cod  and  Oyster  Sauce. 
Haddies. 

"  .     .     .     .     He's  no  ill  boden 
That  gusts  his  gab  wi'  oyster  sauce 
An'  cod  weel  soden." 

Ferguson. 


m 


They're  braw  caller  haddies."  —  Antiquary. 


Sheep's  Head  and  Trotters. 
HAGGIS. 

"  A  sheep's  head  owre  muckle  boiled  is  rank 
poison."  —  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie. 


"  A  haggis  fat,  weel  tottled  in  a  scything  pat." 

Ferguson. 

Drams. 

"  An'  his  nose  is  juisf  <i  sicht,  wi'  drinkin  drams." 

Outram. 


•  /T 


OCOTCH  {OAST/  fi 


Beef  and  Greens. 
Bubbly-jock  and  Howtowdies. 


<(  We'll  live  a'  the  winter  on  beef  an'  lang  kail, 
An'  whang  at  the  ba  nnocks  o'  barley  meal  " 

JjAn,  Duke  of  Argyll. 


"  Noo,  maister,  I  sail  thank  ye  for  a  prievin' 
o'  your  bubbly-jock." 

Saxon  and  the  Gael. 


"  A  fine  fat  howtowdie.     .     .     . 

The  fowl  looks  weel,  an'  we'll  fa'  till  her." 

Allan  Ramsay. 


Marrow  Ec.nes. 

"  Nil  nisi  bonum." 


w 


"  Os  homini  sublime  dedit." 
xi 


s 


Kapers. 

"  Do  you  not  remember,  Hugh,  how  I 
gave  you  a  kaper  ?  "  —  Clan  Albyn. 


"  Then  auld  guidman,  maist  like  to  rive, 
Bethankit  hums." 

Burns. 


Toddy. 


"  A  guid  auld  sang  comes  never  wrang, 
When  o'er  a  social  cogie." 

William  Reid. 


"  The  hour  approaches  Tarn  maun  ride."  —  Burns. 


"  Landlady,  count  the  lawin'." —  Burns, 


"  Guid  nicht,  an'  joy  be  wi'  ye  a'  I  " —  Old  Song. 


Waterloo  Hotel, 


W.  G.   R. 


XI 1 


S/-»/""VTV^T  T        1  f~\  A   O*T*/* 
COTCH   lOAST/ 


o  o 


PATRIOTIC    TOASTS 


-*  -*^ 

IV 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


i 


r^f 


OCOTCH 


A  health   to   the  friends  of  Cale- 
donia. 


But  let  ilk  man  pursue  his  plan, 
Let  all  have  liberty  of  soul, 

Let  every  man  stand  by  his  clan 
And  slavery  have  no  control. 


Be  whaur  I  like,  or  gang  whaur  I 
like,  I  see  nobody  hae  the  sense  and 
manners  that  the  folk  o'  our  ain 
town  hae ! 


Brave  Caledonia,  the  chief  of  her 
line. 


Breathes   there  a  man  with   soul  so 
dead, 


Sc — T-^^ 
COTCH  lOAST/' 


Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 

This  is  my  own,  my  native  land ; 
Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him 

burned, 

As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned 
From    wandering    from    a    foreign 
strand? 


Caledonia:   the  nursery  of  learning 
and  the  birthplace  of  heroes. 


Edina!  Scotia's  darling  seat! 

All  hail  thy  palaces  and  tow'rs, 
Where  once  beneath  a  monarch's  feet 

Sat  legislation's  sov'reign  pow'rs ! 
From  marking  wildly-scatter'd  flow'rs, 

As  on  the  bank  of  Ayr  I  stray'd, 
And  singing,  lone,  the  ling'ring  hours, 

I  shelter  in  thy  honour'd  shade. 


Give  me  my  Scotia's  darling  sons 

Sae  kind  and  free. 
0 !  but  I  loe  their  hamely  tweils, 
Their  auld  sweet  songs  and  foursome 

reels, 

Their  heathery  hills,  their  glens  and 
biels 

Sae  snug  and  warm, 
Rare  honest  independent  chiels 

Wha  dread  nae  harm. 

ttta 


Green  be  thy  hills,  auld  Scotia, 

And  fertile  be  thy  plains,  man; 
Where  friendship,  love,  and  freedom 

reign, 

To  bless  our  nymphs  and  swains, 
man. 

9 

Here's    to    dear    Scotland,   its    crags 
and  its  glens ! 


s 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


The  bonniest  country  that  e'er  mon 

micht  ken! 
The  land  where    the    lads    and  the 

lassies  all  learns 
To  play  golf,  to  drink  high-balls  and 

read  Bobby  Burns. 

r 

Here's  to  the  land  of  bonnets  blue, 
Tartan  kilts  and  tarry  woat, 

0  for  a  waught  of  mountain  dew, 
To  toast  the  guid  and  brave  o't. 

5f 

Kyle  for  a  man, 

Carrick  for  a  coo, 
Cunningham  for  butter  and  cheese 

And  Galloway  for  woo. 


0  Scotia  !  my  dear,  my  native  soil  ! 
For   whom   my   wannest   wish   to 
Heaven  is  sent! 


r~f 


O COTCH 


ml 


Long  may  thy  hardy  sons  of  rustic 

toil, 

Be   blest  with   health,  and   peace, 
and  sweet  content ! 


0  Scotland !  it  was  a  gracious  act  in 

thee 

To  build  a  monument  beside  the  sea 
To  Lincoln,   to  him  who  wrote  the 

word, 
[V$$?    And  slavery's  shackles  fell. 


Old  Scotia,  loved  at  home,  revered 
abroad. 


Rear  high  thy  bleak,  majestic  hills 
Thy      sheltered     valleys     proudly 

spread, 
And,  Scotia,  pour  thy  thousand  rills 


And  wave  thy  heaths  with  blossoms 
red. 


Pledge  to  the  much-loved  land  that 

gave  us  birth, 

Invincible,  romantic  Scotia's  shore! 
Pledge   to   the   memory   of   departed 

worth, 

And  first,  among  the  brave,  remem- 
ber Moore. 

And  be  it  deemed  not  wrong  that  name 

to  give 
In   festive    hours,    which    prompts 

the  patriot's  sigh, 
Who  would  not  envy  such  a  Moore  to 

li  ve  — 

And  died  he  not  as  heroes  wish  to 
die? 

Yes,  though  too  soon  attaining  glory's 
goal, 

8 


COTCH  IOA.ST/ 


To  us  his  bright  career  too  short 

was  given, 
Yet,  in  a  mighty  cause,  his  phoenix 

soul 
Rose,  on  the  flames  of  victory,  to 

heaven. 

Now  oft  (if  beats  on  subjugated  Spain 
One  patriot  heart;  in  secret  shall  it 

mourn 
For  him!  now,  oft,  on  far  Corunna's 

plain, 

Shall  British  exiles  weep  upon  his 
urn! 

Peace  to  the  mighty  dead !  our  bosom- 
thanks 
On    sprightlier    strains,    the    living 

may  inspire ! 
Joy  to  the  chief  that  leads  old  Scotia's 

ranks, 

Of   Roman   garb,   and   more   than 
Roman  fire. 


Triumphant,  be  the  thistle  still  un- 
furled! 
Dear  symbol  wild!    on  Freedom's 

hills  it  grows, 
Where  Fingal  stemmed  the  tyrants  of 

the  world, 

And   Roman  eagles  found  uncon- 
quer'd  foes ! 

Joy  to  the  bard,  on  ancient  Egypt's 

coast, 
Whose  valour  tamed  France's  proud 

tri-colour, 
And  wrenched  the  banner  from  her 

bravest  host, 

Baptized    Invincible    in    Austria's 
gore. 

Joy  for   the   day   on   red   Vemeira's 

strand, 

When  bayonet  to  bayonet  opposed, 
First  of  Britannia's  host,  a  Highland 

band 


10 


COTCH  IQA.ST/' 

Gave  but  the  death-shot  once,  and, 
foremost,  closed. 


Is  there  a  son  of  generous  England 

here, 
Or  fervid  Erin?    he  with   us   shall 

join 

To  pray  that  in  eternal  union  dear, 
The  rose,  the  shamrock,  and   the 
thistle  twine. 

Types  of  a  race  who  shall  the  invader 

scorn, 
As   rocks    resist    the    billows    round 

their  shore,  — 
Types  of  a  race  who  shall,  to  time  un- 


Their   country   leave   unconquered, 
as  of  yore  ! 


Scotland  and   the  products    of   its 
soil. 


Scotland:    the  birthplace  of  valour 
—  the  country  of  worth. 


Scotland,  my  auld,  respected  Mither! 
Tho'  whiles  ye  moistify  your  leather, 
Till  whare  ye  sit,  on  craps  o'  heather, 

Ye  tine  your  dam; 

(Freedom    and    whiskey  gang    the- 
gither!) 

Tak'  aff  your  dram ! 

9 

Scotland's  bonnie  boys. 

<tip 

Scottish    heroes;     and    may    their 
fame  live  for  ever. 


Scottish  learning  and  Scottish  uni- 
versities. 


s 


« 

sfel 


COTCH  1OA.ST/ 


So  may  old  Scotia's  darling  hope, 

Your  little  angel  band. 
Spring,  like  their  father's,  up  to  prop 

Their  honour'd  native  land ! 
So  may  thro'  Albion's  farthest  ken, 

To  social-flowing  glasses, 
The    grace    be  — "  Athole's     honest 
men, 

And  Athole's  bonnie  lasses !  " 


1        The  land  o'  the  leal. 


The  tartan  plaid. 


f 

ft 


The  thistle  of  Scotia  !  —  the  thistle 
sae  green  ! 


COTCH  lOAST/1 


,    Then  here's  may  Scotland  ne'er  fa' 

down, 

A  cringing  coward  doggie, 
But  bauldly  stand  and  bang  the  loon, 
Wha'd  reave  her  of  her  coggie. 


To  the  land  o'  cakes. 


m 


To  the  banners  of  Scotland  —  long 
may  they  wave. 

qy> 

To  the  memory  of  the  Heroes  and 
Heroines  of  Bonnie  Scotland. 


To  the  memory  of  Wallace  and  the 
Scots  who  hae  wi'  Wallace  bled. 


A 


*t   |   | 

s 


§• 


COTCH  1OA.ST/ 


We  toast  ye,  the  nicht,  the  hill  and  the 
$fXH  heather, 

The  lad  o'  the  bonnet,  the  plaid  and 

the  feather, 
The  land  o'  the  mountain,  the  stream 

and  the  river, 
The  land  o'  our  ancestors,  Scotland 

for  ever! 

r 

Wherever  I  wander,  wherever  I  rove, 
The  hills  of  the  Highlands  for  ever  I 
love! 

ar 


PATRIOTIC   SCOTSMEN 
A  Budget  of  Stories 

The  expression,  "  Caledonia,  stem 
and  wild,"  is  very  apt.  The  sternness 
has  been  seen  in  the  Solemn  League 
and  Covenant,  in  Sabbath  observance, 
and  in  the  Disruption  of  1843.  The 
wildness  has  been  seen  on  many  a 


O'sf 


battlefield   in    every   quarter   of    the 
world.     Lord    Byron  refers   to  it   in 
his  description  of  Waterloo :  — 
"  And  wild  and  high  the  '  Cameron's 

Gathering '  rose. 
...  the   fierce  native  daring  which 

instils 
The  stirring  memory  of  a  thousand 

years." 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  dealing  with  the 
same  subject,  uses  a  similar  expression. 
In  Ossian  it  occurs  over  and  over 
again.  Stern  and  wild  applies  to 
country,  people,  and  music  as  much 
to-day  as  it  did  a  hundred  years  ago. 
The  qualities  which  Napoleon  admired 
in  the  Scots  at  Waterloo  hi  1815  were 
displayed  at  Dargai  and  Atbara  in 
1898. 


The  Scots  being  a  warlike  race,  it 
followed  that  the  Volunteer  movement 


16 


OCQTCH 


(-V 


should  be  popular.  We  all  know  the 
story  of  the  urchin  who  laughed  im- 
moderately at  the  mounted  Volunteer 
officer.  The  officer  turned  on  him 
with  the  wrathful  remark.  "  Boy, 
what  are  you  laughing  at;  did  you 
never  see  a  war  horse?  "  The  urchin 
responded,  "  Oo,  aye,  I  hae  seen  a 
waur  horse  mony  a  time,  but  I 
never  saw  a  waur  rider !  " 


Geordie  Gardiner  was  a  member 
of  Trowan's  company,  Crieff,  which 
was  composed  chiefly  of  country  lads. 
They  used  to  squat  down  on  the 
grass  as  soon  as  they  entered  the 
park,  and  no  bugle  call  could  bring 
them  to  their  feet  till  Geordie  would 
get  into  a  frenzy,  running  about  like 
a  drover  at  Falkirk  Tryst,  shouting 
to  the  recumbent  redcoats,  "  Rise 


COTCH  lOAST/7 


and  dress  up  there,  or  I'll  tak'  ye  a 
crack  wi'  a  stane  1 " 


A  lad  who  got  his  living  by  the 
manufacture  of  horn  spoons  applied 
for  admission  into  what  was  known 
as  the  Daft  Company  in  Crieff.  Lord 
John  addressed  the  Company,  and 
asked,  "  if  they  would  be  willing  to 
serve  along  with  the  lad  who  was  a 
tinker."  GUI  Jock  replied,  "  Ou, 
aye,  sir,  tak'  him  by  a'  means.  We 
get  the  name  o'  the  Daft  Company 
ony  way,  and  then  there'll  be  naething 
but  daft  folk  and  tinkers  in't."  Poor 
Lord  John,  feeling  himself,  as  it 
were,  "  rebuked  and  put  down," 
rrerely  added,  "Oh,  I'll  irform  the 
young  man  that  he'll  not  be  accepted 
of." 

18 


A  story  is  told  of  a  Haddington 
tinsmith,  Harry  Galbraith,  who,  when 
checked  for  inability  to  perform  some 
military  evolution,  in  the  Volunteer 
Corps  replied  in  a  tone  of  disgust, 
"  Every  man  to  his  trade,  Captain 
Kinloch.  Can  ye  mak'  a  caffee-pat?  " 


The  Tranent  Volunteers,  a  very 
good  company,  consisting  almost  en- 
tirely of  miners,  were  being  drilled, 
a  good  many  years  after  1859,  by 
Adjutant  Ross,  afterwards  colonel  of 
the  Royal  Scots.  The  order  was  new 
to  them,  "  Stand  at  ease.  Stand 
easy."  They  stood  easy,  as  miners 
do,  by  settling  on  their  hunkers!  I 
hope  the  expression  is  not  too  vague. 
The  expression  used  ^by  the  adiutant 
was  not.  It  is  told  of  the  same  com- 
pany that  on  one  occasion,  at  a  big 
affair  in  Annisfield  Park,  they  were 


told  to  "  ground  arms."  This  was 
done  by  every  man.  Afterwards, 
when  the  order  was  given,  "  take  up 
arms,"  one  member  had  to  be 
prompted,  and  this  was  how  it  was 
done :  "  Hi,  Johnnie,  man,  lift  yir 
cannon." 


This  reminds  me  of  another  from 
the  same  company.  It  was  during 
refreshment  time  after  a  big  sham 
fight.  "  Hi,  man,"  says  one,  "  a'  lost 
the  skin  o'  ma  baagnet  comin'  through 

that wud."      "  Man,  that's  nae- 

thin,"  exclaims  a  comrade,  "  A' 
lost  the  lid  o'  ma  cannon."  The 
worthies  were  deploring  the  loss  of 
a  scabbard  and  a  sight  protector. 


I  am  not  sure  whether  he  was  a 
member  of  Tranent  company  or  not 


L 


20 


S 
rrvnr' 
{^\J  I  %w 


0   9  t. 


that  was  travelling  one  night  by  rail 
from  Edinburgh  when  an  old  gentle- 
man searched  his  pockets,  grew  very 
fidgety,  and  said  it  was  a  most  ex- 
traordinary thing  that  he  should  lose 
his  railway  ticket.  Our  hero  calmly 
replied,  "Lose  a  bit  ticket!  That's 
naethin.  A'  lost  the  big  drum." 


In  one  of  the  Haddington  Volunteer 
companies  there  was  a  member  named 
Porteous,  who  was  not  a  crack  shot, 
but  it  was  understood  that  his  bullets 
all  went  to  the  same  place,  which 
came  to  be  known  as  Porteous's 
hole.  Whenever  a  Volunteer  missed 
the  target  and  asked,  "  I  winner 
whaur'll  that  ane  hae  gane,"  the 
reply  was,  "  It'll  be  in  Porteous's 
hole." 


s 


COTCH 


It  does  not  pay  crack  shots  to 
brag  too  much,  however.  A  squad 
of  the  8th  (Crieff)  Volunteers,  firing 
at  Benny  beg  Range,  happened  to  hit 
a  horse  that  was  standing  near  — 
probably  with  a  splinter  from  a 
bullet  after  it  had  struck  the  target. 
A  short  time  afterwards  the  excel- 
lences of  the  "  gallant  eighth  "  were 
being  extolled  in  presence  of  a  well- 
known  Breadalbane  Highlander  named 
Duncan.  Becoming  exasperated,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Tamm  you  and  ye 
gallants  and  eights  and  things,  the 
first  man  ye  shot  was  a  horse  !  " 


A  private  of  the  7th  V.  B.  R.  S.,  of 
extreme  weight,  took  part  in  a  forced 
march  from  Stow  to  Dingleton  Com- 
mon, and,  it  being  a  very  hot  day, 
had  to  succumb.  The  doctor  asked 


22 


him  if  he  knew  his  weight,  and  the 
answer  gasped  out  was,  "  A'  no'  ken, 
but  I  was  auchteen  stane  when  I  left 
Longniddry." 


At  some  Volunteer  manoeuvres  in 
the  South  of  Scotland  a  young  ser- 
geant hi  charge  of  a  squad  was  asked 
by  a  private,  "  Where  are  we  to  go 
now?  "  "  Dae  ye  no  see  that  beer 
barrel  below  the  trees?  Left  turn. 
Quick  march." 


It  was  a  commissioned  officer  who, 
having  to  lead  his  company  through 
a  narrow  gap  in  a  hedge,  gave  the 
order,  "  Halt,  disperse,  form  on  other 
side  of  hedge." 


Adjutant  Gordon,  Haddington,  once 
startled  his  company  with  the  com- 


s 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


mand,  "  When  the  bugle  fires  begin 
to  sound." 


He  was  a  Highland  sergeant  who 
told  the  men  in  camp,  "  If  she'll  be 
findin'  pottles  here  and  pottles  there, 
and  if  she'll  find  no  more  whatever 
the  innocent  will  be  punished  as  well 
as  those  that's  not  guilty." 


On  one  occasion  a  sham  fight  was 
going  on  and  two  men  were  supposed 
to  have  been  shot.  One  of  them,  how- 
ever, got  up  and  fired  off  a  blank 
cartridge,  when  the  other,  a  joiner, 
pulled  him  down,  exclaiming,  "  Dae 
ye  no  ken  yir  a  casualty?" 


Colonel  Ross  of  the  Royal  Scots, 
while   adjutant   of   the   Ha  d  ding  ton  - 


24 


shire  Volunteers,  allowed  full  sway  to 
his  humour  and  impulsiveness.  On 
one  occasion  he  took  in  hand  the 
"  sizing "  of  a  company,  and  after 
stating  the  book  instructions  that  the 
tallest  man  was  to  be  placed  on  the 
right  and  the  smallest  on  the  left, 
shouted  "  Six  feet  two,  three  paces  to 
the  front."  There  was  no  response. 
V  Six  feet  one,"  etc.  One  stepped 
forward.  And  so  on  down  to  five 
feet  four,  when  one  man  was  left. 
"  Five  fut,"  shouted  the  adjutant, 
and  little  J—  responded  to  the 
order  amid  laughter  which  was  not 
easily  suppressed. 


Old  Sergeant  Law  of  the  Hadding- 
ton  company  had  a  hunchback,  no 
chest  to  speak  of,  and  a  head  which 
reached  far  forward.  When  drilling 


25 


s 


COTCH 


he  used  to  ask  the  members  of  the 
company  to  "  Stand  straight,  head 
up,  just  like  me."  The  same  old 
sergeant  was  a  good  shot,  and  on  one 
occasion  when  putting  on  bull's  eyes 
in  succession  was  asked  by  a  man 
of  position,  who  was  a  member  of 
the  company,  how  he  managed  to 
score  so  well.  The  reply  was,  "  Oh, 
I  juist  shut  ma  een  and  pu'  the 
tricker ! " 


A  good  story  of  practice  at  "the 
butts "  is  told  of  a  Volunteer  who 
was  observed  to  lower  his  rifle  fre- 
quently and  blow  something  from 
about  the  foresight.  Asked  by  a 
comrade  what  was  wrong,  he  said 
there  was  a  blasted  fly  that  persisted 
in  landing  on  the  barrel  whenever  he 
took  aim.  The  comrade  took  the 
rifle  and  lay  down,  when  he  dis- 

26 


covered  that  the  mysterious  fly  was 
none  other  than  the  rangekeeper 
painting  out  bullet  marks  in  front  of 
the  target.  The  old  man  had  no 
idea  how  near  he  was  to  a  future 
state. 


It  was  a  red-letter  day  in  the  annals 
of  the  Haddington  Volunteers  when 
the  Marquis  of  Tweeddale  invited 
them  to  have  a  sham  fight  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Goblin  Ha',  famed 
through  "  Marmion."  The  com- 
mander, a  burly  citizen  who  had 
attained  to  high  honours  in  the  birth- 
place of  John  Knox,  placed  himself 
in  front  of  his  company  and  addressed 
them  in  martial  strains.  "  When  the 
bugle  sounds  the  charge,"  he  con- 
cluded, "  follow  me,  my  brave  men." 
The  bugle  sounded,  the  charge  was 
made  —  for  about  thirty  yards,  when 


s 


COTCH 


the  gallant  leader,  looking  back  to  see 
how  his  men  were  advancing,  fell  into 
a  ditch.  The  rank  and  file  pursued 
their  wild  career,  but  two  kind- 
hearted  sergeants  remained  by  their 
discomfited  leader.  "  Oh,  captain, 
I  hope  you  are  not  mortally  wounded," 
said  one.  "  My  breeks  are  wounded," 
said  the  officer  on  being  pulled  out  of 
the  ditch.  "  Duncan,  hae  ye  a 
needle  and  thread?  "  Duncan,  who 
was  a  tailor,  had  the  necessaries; 
at  any  rate  the  unmentionables  were 
patched  up  in  some  way,  and  the 
officer  was  sympathized  with  in  being 
so  unfortunate  as  to  get  wounded  in 
the  back,  thereby  suggesting  that  he 
had  been  disgracefully  fleeing  from 
the  enemy. 


The  old  soldier  was  at  one  time  a 
prominent  personage  in  country  dis- 

28 


COTCH  JOA.ST/' 

tricts.  One  of  the  earliest  stories  I 
remember  is  of  a  veteran  who  touched 
his  hat  whenever  he  spoke  to  any- 
body. Some  one  checked  him  for  this, 
remarking  that  he  was  a  very  poor 
man  and  unworthy  of  such  honour. 
The  reply  of  the  old  warrior  was, 
"  Am  I  to  spoil  my  good  manners  for 
your  d  -  poverty?  " 


The  old  warriors  were  not  always 
well  educated.  A  veteran  in  the 
Crieff  district,  John  M'Niven,  was  one 
of  the  advance  companies,  or  forlorn 
hope,  which  entered  Washington,  of 
which  only  eleven  survived  to  tell  of 
their  daring.  When  asked  by  one  of 
his  neighbours  how  he  felt  when 
marching  to  the  town  he  answered, 
"I  dinna  ken;  I  was  just  there." 
John  was  religious  and  read  his  Bible 


29 


-»  9  o 


SCOT 


CH  lOAST/" 


on  Sundays,  spelling  the  difficult 
words,  and  giving  pronunciations  un- 
known in  English  dictionaries.  He 
had  several  parts  of  a  work  entitled, 
"  The  Life  of  Christ,"  and  one  cf  his 
lodgers  had  some  parts  of  a  work 
entitled,  "The  Scottish  Chiefs,"  and 
both  publications  had  similar  covers. 
One  Sunday  his  lodgers  and  a  neigh- 
bour were  talking  of  things  worldly  to 
such  a  degree  that  John  thought  fit 
to  challenge  their  proceedings,  and 
told  them  it  would  be  wiser  were 
they  reading  their  Bibles,  and  if  they 
would  not  do  so  he  would  read  it 
himself.  He  took  "  The  Scottish 
Chiefs,"  and  commenced  reading  and 
spelling  at  a  determined  rate.  After 
a  little  he  got  bewildered  with  an  ad- 
venture connected  with  Wallace.  His 
hearers  could  scarcely  keep  their  grav- 
ity, but  one  ventured  to  ask  who  this 
Wallace  was.  He  replied,  "  Ye  micht 


•""•*L>M*MM_ 

s 


COTCH  lo AST/* 


ken  that  brawly,  wi'  yer  education. 
He  was  one  i'  (of  the)  apostles."  John 
once  offered  to  put  up  a  dyke  "  at  a 
penny  below  the  lowest  offer."  On 
another  occasion  the  laird  sent  a 
servant  asking  John  to  make  an  offer. 
John,  not  being  a  ready  writer,  asked 
the  servant  to  write  out  the  offer.  This 
the  servant  refused.  "  Well,"  said 
John,  "just  tell  the  laird  that  I'll 
put  the  dyke  up  for  what  he  likes." 


When  Tarn  Black,  another  Crieff 
worthy,  went  to  the  Highlands  to  buy 
yarn  he  always  was  attired  hi  full 
regimentals,  and  if  any  one  asked  the 
reason  the  ready  reply  was,  "  Oh,  a 
person's  money  is  always  safe  under 
a  red  coat.  No  one  would  ever  think 
of  robbing  a  soldier." 

3* 


§: 


•»  9  o 


s 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


Old  Andrew  Creach,  Bower,  was 
most  unscrupulous  in  his  dealings  with 
those  he  did  not  like.  He  was  very 
ready-witted.  In  a  Thurso  tavern  he 
got  into  a  discussion  with  a  black- 
smith about  sweating,  and  the  son  of 
Vulcan,  having  got  the  worst  of  the 
argument,  said,  "  Andrew,  come  down 
to  the  back  of  the  chapel  and  I'll 
put  your  soul  ou'  of  your  body  in  five 
minutes."  "  At  leisure,  at  leisure," 
said  Andrew,  "  they're  no  so  easy 
putten  thegither  again." 


COTCH 


TOASTS   TO  WOMEN, 

LOVE,  FRIENDSHIP, 

ETC. 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


fl 


A  cozy  but,  and  a  cantie  ben 

To  couthie  women  and  trusty  men 


An  honest  man  may  like  a  glass, 
An  honest  man  may  like  a  lass, 
But  mean  revenge,  an'  malice  fause, 
He'll  still  disdain. 


P 


And    fill    them   high    with    generous 
juice, 

As  generous  as  your  mind ; 
And  pledge  me  in  the  generous  toast — 

"  The  whole  of  human  kind !  " 


And  here's  to  a'  hi  barley  bree, 
Oursel's  and  a'  the  warld  thegither, 

35 


s 


o 
/-»/-VrrT/-?TT        1  /-%  A    C"T"r/g* 

COTCH   1OA8T/ 


To  a'  wha  luve  the  kilted  knee, 
Or  bonnie  lasses  in  the  heather. 


And  pray  a'  guid  things  may  attend 
you! 


And  the  sands  shall  sing, 
And  the  round  world  ring, 
With  my  love  and  thy  love  for  me. 

3P 

And  whilst  we  thus  should  make  our 

sorrows  one 
This    happy   harmony   would    make 

them  none. 

9 

But  truce  with  kings,  and  truce  with 
constitutions, 

With  bloody  armaments  and  revolu- 
tions; 

36 


$j 


I 


ft 


COTCH  IOA.ST/ 

Let  Majesty  your  first  attention  sum- 
mon, 
Ah  ca  ira !  the  Majesty  of  Woman ! 


I  o  ' 


But  ye  whom  social  pleasure  charms, 
Whose    hearts   the    tide    of   kindness 

warms, 
Who  hold  your  being  on  the  terms, 

"  Each  aid  the  others," 
Come  to  my  bowl,  come  to  my  arms, 

My  friends,  my  brothers ! 


Drink  ye  to  her  that  each  loves  best. 


Fill  me  with  the  rosy  wine, 
Call  a  toast,  a  toast  divine, 
Give  the  poet's  darling  flame, 
Lovely  ~   -  be  the  name, 

37 


Then  thou  mayest  freely  boast 
Thou  hast  given  a  peerless  toast. 


Farewell  the  glen  sae  bushy,  0 ! 
Farewell  the  plain  sae  rushy,  0 ! 
To  other  lands  I  now  must  go, 
To  sing  my  Highland  lassie,  0 ! 


For  a'  that  and  a'  that, 
It's  coming  yet  for  a'  that  — 
That  man  to  man  the  warld  o'er 

Shall  brithers  be  for  a'  that. 


For  me,  I'm  woman's  slave  confessed  — 
Without  her,  hopeless  and  unblessed. 


For  there's  nae  luck  about  the  house, 
There's  nae  luck  at  a' ; 

38 


COTCH  1OA.ST/" 


There's  little  pleasure  in  the  house 
When  our  gudeman's  awa*. 


Go  to  your  sculptur'd  tombs,  ye  Great, 
In  a'  the  tinsel  trash  o'  state ! 
But  by  thy  honest  turf  I'll  wait, 

Thou  Man  of  worth ! 
And  weep  the  ae  best  fellow's  fate 

E'er  lay  hi  earth. 

5f 

Here's  a  health  to  ane  I  lo'e  dear, 
Here's  a  health  to  ane  I  lo'e  dear; 
Thou  art  as  sweet  as  the  smile  when 

fond  lovers  meet, 

And    soft    as    their    parting    tear  — 
Jessy ! 

if 

Here's  a  bottle  and  an  honest  friend! 
What  wad  ye  wish  for  mair,  man? 
Wha  kens,  before  his  life  may  end, 

39 


g^-; 

SCOTCH  TOAST/* 

*~~^ 


What  his  share  may  be  of    care, 

man? 
Then  catch  the  moments  as  they  fly, 

And  use  them  as  ye  ought,  man :  — 
Believe  me,  happiness  is  shy, 

And  comes  not  aye  when  sought, 
man. 


Here's  to  him  who  winna'  beguile 


ye. 


Here's  a  health  to  th3  ladies  at  hame, 
Here's  a  health  to  the  ladies  awa', 

And  wha  winna  pledge  wi'  all  their 

soul 
May  they  never  be  smiled  on  at  a'. 

Here's  health  to  the  bright  eyes  at 

hame, 
Here's  health  to  the  bright  eyes  awa', 


40 


COTCH 


Here's  health  to  the  beauties  of  every 

clime, 
And  may  we  be  smiled  on  by  a'. 


Here's  to  the  friends  we  can  trust 
When  the  storms  of  adversity  blaw ; 

May  they  live  in  our  song  and  be  near- 
est our  hearts 
Nor  depart  like  the  year  that's  awa'. 


Here's  to  the  year  that's  awa', 
We'll  drink  it,  in  strong  and  in  sma'; 
And  here's  to  the  bonnie  young  lassie 

in  love 
While  swift  flies  the  year  that's  awa'. 


Here's   to  them  that    loe's  us,  or 
lends  us  a  lif  t. 


s 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


Here's    to    woman  —  she    requires 
no  eulogy  —  she  can  speak  for  herself. 


Here's  to  you,  as  good  as  you  are, 
And  here's  to  me,  as  bad  as  I  am; 
But  as  good  as  you  are  and  as  bad  as 

I  am 
I'm  as  good  as  you  are,  as  bad  as  I  am. 


Honest  men  and  bonnie  lassies. 


I  hae  been  blythe  wi'  comrades  dear; 

I  hae  been  merry  drinkin' ; 
I  hae  been  joyfu'  gath'ring  gear; 

I  hae  been  happy  thinkin' ; 
But  a'  the  pleasures  e'er  I  saw, 

Tho'  three  times  doubled  fairly, 
That  happy  night  was  worth  them  a' 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley. 


r~r 


O  COTCH 


It  warms  me,  it  charms  me, 
To  mention  but  her  name, 
It  heats  me,  it  beats  me, 
And  sets  me  a'  on  flame. 


Jessie,  the  flower  of  Dumblane. 

if 

Mair  friends  and  less  need  o'  them. 


May  the  hand  of  charity  wipe  the 
tear  from  the  eye  of  sorrow. 

if 

May  the  friends  of  our  youth  be  the 
companions  of  our  old  age. 


May   the   honest  heart  never  feel 
distress. 


43 


OAST/ 


May  the  hinges  o'  friendship  never    flw« 
rust  or  the  wings  o'  love  lose  a  feather. 


May  ne'er  waur  be  amang  us. 


May  we  a'  be  canty  and  cosy 
And  ilk  hae  a  wife  in  his  bosy. 


Let's  drink  our  drap  o'  barley  bree, 
Though  moon  and  stars  should  blink 

thegither, 

To  each  leal  lad  wi'  kilted  knee, 
And*  bonnie  lass  amang  the  heather. 


May  never  wicked  fortune  touzle  him ! 
May   never   wicked    men   bamboozle 
him! 


44 


iiM.iin,mn,,in 

/"'/'"VTVT'LT     i/~"%  A  c^T*/* 

CO  1 CH   1U  A.bJ./ 


0   01; 


Until  a  pow  as  auld's  Methusalem 

He  canty  claw! 
Then  to  the  blessed  New  Jerusalem, 

Fleet  whig  awa  1 


0 !  love !  love !  laddie. 

Love's  like  a  dizziness ! 
It  winna  let  a  puir  body 

Gang  about  his  business. 


Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 
And  never  brought  to  min'? 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 
And  days  o'  lang  syne? 

Chorus 

For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear, 

For  auld  lang  syne, 
We'll  take  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet 

For  auld  lang  syne. 

45 


9  o 


s 


COTCH 


We  twa  hae  run  about  the  braes, 

And  pu'd  the  gowans  fine; 
But  we've  wander'd  mony  a  weary 
foot 

Sin  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  etc. 

We  twa  hae  paidl't  i'  the  burn, 
From  mornin'  sun  till  dine ; 

But  seas  between  us  braid  hae  roar'd 
Sin  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  etc. 

And  here's  a  hand,  my  trust  fiere, 

And  gie's  a  hand  o'  thine ; 
And  we'll  tak    a    right   guid  willie- 
waught, 

For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  etc. 

And  surely  ye'll  be  your  pint-stoup, 
And  surely  I'll  be  thine ; 

46 


COTCH 


ooi 


And  we'll  tak  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet 
For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  etc. 


The  de'il  rock  them  in  a  creel  that 
does  na'  wish  us  a'  weel. 


The  Ingle  neuk  wi'  routh  o'  ban- 
nocks and  bairns. 


The  social  friendly  honest  man, 

Whae'er  he  be, 
'Tis  he  fulfils  great  Nature's  plan, 

And  none  but  he. 


The   Highland    lads   and    Lowland 
lassies. 


47 


;*  O    0 


s 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


The  Lowland  fare  and  the  Highland 
lassies. 


Then  fill  a  bowl,  and  while  we  drink 
We'll  rivet  closer  friendship's  link, 
Till  joy  rin  o'er  and  care  deep  sink, 
Beneath  the  whirling  wave  o't. 


Till  Hymen  brought  his  love-delighted 

hour,  W 

There  dwelt  no  joy  in  Eden's  rosy 
bower. 


To  a'  Scots  lassies. 
5f 

<5S» 

To  our  next  merry  meeting. 
*£* 

tS5> 

Thumping  luck  and  fat  weans. 


/ 


TCH  1OAST/' 


, 

\o  9  i. 


To  see  her  is  to  love  her, 
And  love  but  her  for  ever; 

For  Nature  made  her  what  she  is, 
And  ne'er  made  sic  anither! 


This  is  a  good  world  to  live  in, 
To  lend  to  spend  or  to  give  in, 
But  to  get  or  to  borrow  or  keep  what's 

one's  own 

'Tis  the  very  worst  world  that  ever  was 
known. 

if 

To  those  who  love  us,  second  fill; 
But  not  to  those  whom  we  love: 
Lest  we  love  those  who  love  not  us ! 
A  third  —  "  to  thee  and  me,  Love !  " 

r 

While    highlandmen    hate    tolls    and 
taxes; 

49 


TCH 


While   muirlan'   herds   Uke   guid   fat 

braxies ; 
While  terra  firma,  on  her  axis 

Diurnal  turns, 

Count  on  a  friend,  in  faith  an'  prac- 
tice, 

In  Robert  Burns. 


While  waters  wimple  to  the  sea ; 
While  day  blinks  hi  the  lift  sae  hie ; 
Till  clay-cauld   death  shall  blin'  my 

e'e, 
Ye  shall  be  aye  my  dearie. 


Whilst  we  together  jovial  sit 
Careless,    and    crowned    with    mirth 

and  wit, 
We'll    think    of    all    the    friends    we 

know 
And  drink  to  all  worth  drinking  to ! 


Q 
OCOTCH 


^^ 


CONVIVIAL  AND 

HUMOUROUS  TOASTS 

AND   SENTIMENTS 


9  o 


SCOT 


CH  1OAST/ 


COTCH  1OA.ST/" 


A  man  when  he's  sober  is  deils  ill  to 

ken; 

Gude  sooks  than  there's  nae  ken- 
ning o'  him. 
But  prime  him  wi'  nappie,  than  ye 

mae  gae  ben 

And  learn  what  he  is  —  for  'twill 
show  him. 


V  \ 

J 


A  club  of  good  fellows  like  those  that 

are  here 
And  a  bottle  like  this  I  most  heartily 

cheer. 

5? 

A  ram's  horn  filled  with  usquebaugh. 


Here's  to  the  chief  whose  heart  is 
brave, 

53 


9  o 


S 


That  merrily  lives  in  the  mountain 

cave 
And  bides  by  greenwood  law, 

Who  scorns  the  weather, 

Whose  bed's  the  heather, 
Fill  high,  fill  high  together. 


And  let  the  careless  moments  roll 
In  social  pleasures  unconfin'd 

And  confidence  that  spurns  control 
Unlock  the  inmost  springs  of  mind. 


And  now  I  have  lived  —  I  know  not 

how  long. 
And  still  I  can  join  in  a  cup  or  a  song. 


Auld    Scotland    wants   nae    skulking 
ware 

That  jaups  in  luggies; 

54 


But,  if  ye  wish  her  gratefu'  prayer, 
Gie  her  a  Haggis ! 

9 

Be't  whiskey  gill,  or  penny  wheep 

Or  any  stronger  potion, 
It  never  fails,  on  drinking  deep, 

To  kittle  up  our  notion 

By  night  or  day. 

9 

Blythe,  blythe,  aroun'  the  nappy, 

Let  us  join  in  social  glee ; 
While  we're  here  we'll  hae  a  drappy, 

Scotia's  sons  hae  aye  been  free. 


Blythe  may  we  a'  be, 
111  may  we  never  see. 


Breeks  and  brochan  (brose). 

55 


s 


COTCH 


By  the  gaily  circling  glass 
We  can  tell  how  minutes  pass. 
By  the  hollow  cask  we're  told 
How  the  waning  night  grows  old. 


Comrades,  you  may  pass    the    rosy. 

With  permission  of  the  Chair 
I  shall  leave  you  for  a  little,  for  I  wish 

to  take  the  air. 


Drink  to-day,  and  drown  all  sorrow; 
You    shall    perhaps    not    do't    to- 
morrow. 


Food  fills  thewame,  an*  keeps  us  livin'; 
Tho'  life's  a  gift  no  worth  receivin' 
When    heavy   dragged    in   pine    and 
grievin' ; 
But  oil'd  by  thee, 

56 


r^f 


COTCH 


o  o 


The    wheels  o'    life 
screivin, 
Wi'  rattUn'  glee. 


down-hill, 


r 

Fortune,  if  thou'lt  but  gie  me  still 
Hale  breeks,  a  scone,  an'  whiskey  gill, 
An'  rowth  o'  rhyme  to  rave  at  will, 

Tak  a'  the  rest, 
An'  deal 't  about  as  thy  blind  skill 

Directs  thee  best. 

r 

Freedom  and  whiskey  gang  thegither ! 
Take  aff  your  dram ! 


Gae  fill  the  three  pint  cup  o'  ale, 
The  maul  maun  be  above  the  meal, 
We  hope  your  ale  is  stark  and  stout 
For  men  to  drink  the  auld  year  out. 

57 


SCOTCH  IOAST/  I 


Gie  him  strong  drink,  until  he  wink, 

That's  shaking  in  despair; 
An'  liquor  guid  to  fire  his  bluid, 

That's  prest  wi'  grief  an'  care ; 
There  let  him  bouse,  an'  deep  carouse, 

Wi'  bumpers  flowing  o'er, 
Till  he  forgets  his  loves  and  debts, 

An'  minds  his  griefs  no  more. 


Gude  e'en  to  ye  a'  an'  tak  your  nappy, 
A  wully-waught's  a  good  night  cappy. 

©> 

Here's  to  the  place  where  a  drap  o* 
guid  drink's  to  be  gotten. 


Here's  your  fery  good  healths 
And  tamm  ta  whiskey  duty. 

58 


m 


S~*  /""VTV^F  T  T         I  /""%   A     C*  *T»  /"* 

COTCH  1OA.ST/ 


* 


In  Vino  Veritas !  which  means 
A  man's  a  very  ass  in  liquor. 

The  thief  that  slowly  steals  our  brains 
Makes    nothing    but    the    temper 
quicker. 

5f 

Inspiring,  bold  John  Barleycorn, 
What  dangers   thou  canst  make  us 
scorn. 


Lang  may  they  bloom,  as  aye  they've 
been 

The  pride  o'  lang  syne. 
Then  fill  the  bicker  reaming  fu' 

Wi'  Scotland's  Highland  wine, 
An'  drink  to  a'  whar're  leel  an'  true, 

An'  days  o'  lang  syne. 

t 

Let  other  poets  raise  a  fracas 
'Bout  vines,  and  wines,  and  druncken 
Bacchus, 


59 


S6    ""•"          "^ 
/^/^Trr/^t_F     Ir^lAQTV 
COTCH    lUAoj/ 


And  crabbit  names  and  stories  wrack 

us, 

An'  grate  our  lug, 
I  sing  the  juice  Scotch  barley  can  make 

us, 
In  glass  or  jug. 


^H 


Let  Pride  in  Fortune's  chariots  fly, 

Sae  emPty»  vain»  and  v°Sie  5 
The  source  of  wit,  the  spring  of  joy, 

Lies  in  the  social  coggie. 
Then  0  revere  the  coggie,  sirs ! 
The  poor  man's  patron  coggie ! 
It   warsels   care,   it   fights   life's 

faughts 
And  lif ts  him  frae  the  boggie. 


i, 

i«? 


Lees  me  wi'  drink. 

It  gives  us  mair  than  either  school 
or  college, 

60 


W^fr'' 

IMS 

mm^J 


COTCH  1OA.ST/I 


It  wakens  wit,  it  kindles  lear 
An'  primes  us  f  ou  o'  knowledge. 


May  the  pleasures  of  the  evening 
bear  the  reflections  of  the  morning. 


May  love  and  whiskey  both 
Rejoice  an  honest  fellow, 

May  the  unripe  joys  of  life 
Love  and  whiskey  mellow. 


May  ye  never  ken  a  fiddler's  drouth. 


May  we  have  preed  an'  cheese  like 
Pen  Nevis,  an*  whiskey  like  Loch 
Lomond  and  a  pig  dyke  'tween  us  an' 
the  Tevil. 

61 


fi^ 

S-p=p£=r~ 
COTCH  lOASl/' 


May  we  never  be  wearing  lug 
warmers  when  we  are  offered  a  drink 
of  whiskey. 

r 

May  we  ne'er  want  a  friend  or  a 
drappie  to  gie  him. 


Now  fill  your  glasses  ane  an'  a' 

And  drink  the  toast  I  gie  ye,  O, 
"  To  merry  chiels  and  lasses  braw, 
And  every  joy  be  wi'  ye,  0." 
Fair  fa'  the  whiskey,  0, 
Fair  fa'  the  whiskey,  0, 
What  wad  a  drouthy  body  do, 
If  'twere  nae  for  the  whiskey,  0? 


0  gie  me  the  times  when  the  ploys 

were  hi  vogue 
An'  the  cake  an'  the  kebbuck  gaed 

down  wi'  the  cogue. 

62 


0  guid  ale  comes  and  guid  ale  goes, 
Guid  ale  gars  me  sell  my  hose, 
Sell  my  hose  and  pawn  my  shoon, 
Guid  ale  keeps  my  heart  a  bo  on. 


0  thou  my  muse  !  guid  auld  Scotch 
drink! 


There's  nought  so  sweet  in  this  poor 
life 

As  knittin'  soul  to  soul  ; 
And  what  maist  close  may  bind  that 
knot? 

The  glass  and  bowl  ! 
The  glass  and  bowl,  my  boys, 

The  glass  and  bowl; 
So  let  us  call,  for  this  is  out, 

Anither  bowl. 

We  never  dabbled  in  the  burn, 
Nor  pull'd  the  gowan  droll, 

63 


s 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


But  often  has  the  sun's  return 
Surprised  our  bowl. 
Chorus — Our  glass  and  bowl,  etc. 


And  aft  did  we  the  merry  catch 

And  cheering  ditty  troll, 
And  hooted  mony  a  whiggish  wretch 

About  the  bowl. 
Chorus  —  Our  glass  and  bowl,  etc. 

And,  therefore,  hill  betwixt  may  rise, 
And  though  ocean  water  roll, 

Yet  we'll  ne'er  forget  the  lads  who  met 
About  the  bowl. 
Chorus  —  Our  glass  and  bowl,  etc. 

And  when  yer  poet's  dead  and  gane, 
And  laid  beneath  the  moul, 

Let  those  who  sung  his  memory,  drink 
About  the  bowl. 
Chorus  — Our  glass  and  bowl,  etc. 

64 


0  O  13 


Our  heads  cool,  our  feet  warm. 
And  a  glass  of  good  liquor  to  do  us  no 
harm. 


Peat  whiskey  hot 
Tempered  with  well  boiled  water, 
These  make  the  long  night  shorter. 


Scotch  whiskey  and  Scotch  cakes. 


See  the  smoking  bowl  before  us, 
Mark  our  jovial  ragged  ring  ; 

Round  and  round  take  up  the  chorus, 
And  hi  raptures  let  us  sing. 


Some  hae  meat  and  canna'  eat, 
And  some  wad  eat  who  want  it; 

But  we  hae  meat  and  we  can  eat, 
So  let  the  Lord  be  thankit. 


s 


COTCH  iOAST/ 


Strong  ale  was  ablution, 
Small  beer  persecution, 
A  dram  was  memento  mori ; 
But  a  full  flowing  bowl 
Was  the  saving  his  soul, 
And  port  was  celestial  glory. 


The  grace  is  said :  it's  nae  o'wer  lang ; 

The  claret  reams  in  bells. 
Quo,  Deacon, "  Let  the  toast  round  gang, 

Come,  here's  our  noble  sels', 
Weel  met  the  day." 


The  Highlandman's  bauld,  the  High- 

landman's  free, 

His  arm  is  strong  and  his  heart  is  true : 
What  gives  the  Highlandman  courage 

and  glee? 
What  but  the  drops  of  his  mountain 

dew. 

66 


I 

£ 


1OCOTCH  1OA.ST/ 


The  juice  of  the  grape  is  given  to  him 
who  will  use  it  wisely, 

As  that  which  cheers  the  heart  of  men 
after  toil, 

Refreshes  him  in  sickness,  and  com- 
forts him  hi  sorrow. 

He  who  enjoyeth  it  may  thank  God  for 
his  wine  cup  as  for  his  daily  bread. 

And  he  who  abuses  the  gift  of  heaven  is 
not  a  greater  fool  than  thou  hi 
thine  abstinence. 


The  sweets  of  Life  —  Mirth,  Music, 
Love,  and  Wine. 


Life's  a  bumper  filled  by  fate, 
Let  us  guests  enjoy  the  treat, 
Nor,  like  silly  mortals,  pass 
Life  as  'twere  but  half  a  glass; 
Let  this  scene  with  joy  be  crown'd, 
Let  the  glee  and  catch  go  round  I 

67 


o  o 


s 


COTCH  1OAST/' 


m 


All  the  sweets  of  life  combine, 
Mirth,  music,  love  and  wine. 


Then  fill  up  a  bumper,  and  make  it 

o'erflow, 
And  honours  masonic  prepare  for  to 

throw; 
May  every  true  brother  of  the  compass 

and  square 
Have  a  big-bellied  bottle  when  har- 

ass'd  with  care. 


Then  here's  to  ilka  kindly  Scot : 

Wi'  mony  good  broths  he  boils  his  pot, 

But  rare  hotch  potch  beats  a'  the  lot, 

It  smells  so  brawly. 
For  there's  carrots  intill't  and  neaps 

intiU't, 

There's  peas  and  beans  and  beets  intill't, 
The  hearty  wholesome  meats  intill't 

That  stick  the  kite  sae  brawly. 

68 


Then  let  us  toast  John  Barleycorn, 
Each  man  a  glass  in  hand  ; 

And  may  his  great  posterity 
Ne'er  fail  in  old  Scotland  ! 

5f 

Then  sip  the  dew,  and  cheerful  sing, 
And  loud  the  bagpipes  play,  man, 
And  gae  the  very  welkin  ring 
Wi'  blithe  St.  Andrew's  Day,  man. 


There's  death  in  the  cup  —  sae  beware  ! 
Nay,  more  —  there  is  danger  in  touch- 

ing; 

But  wha  can  resist  the  fell  snare? 
The  man  and  his  wine's  sae  bewitching. 


To  sum  up  all,  be  merry,  I  advise ; 
And  as  we're  merry,  may  we  still  be 
wise. 

69 


"7S ltf — ^ 

SCOTCH  {OAST/ 


To  the  three  things  necessary  to  the 
happiness  of  a  Scotchman  —  First, 
the  sneeshin'  (snuff),  second  the 
whiskey,  third,  more  whiskey. 


To  whiskey  —  o'er  a'  the  ills  o'  life 
victorious. 


We  arena  f  ou,  we're  nae  that  f  ou, 
But  just  a  drappie  in  our  ee ; 

The  cock  may  craw,  the  day  may  daw, 
And  aye  we'll  taste  the  barley  bree. 

©> 

We  hae  a'  kinds  o'  whisky,  fre  Glen- 

livet  sae  clear, 
That  ne'er  gaes  a  headache  —  to  the 

five  bawbee  gear; 
We  hae  Gin,  Rum,  Shrub,  and  ither 

neck-rackets 


70 


»/^"^ — ^ 
TCH  lOAST/* 


For  them  whan  the  clear  stuff  their 

brain  sets  in  rackets 
We   hae   fine   Yill  frae   Peebles,   an' 

Porter  frae  Lonnon  — 
Ginger  beer  frae  the  toon,  an'  Sma' 

brisk  an'  foaming; 
We    hae    Teas,    Bread    an'    Cheese, 

alias  Welsh  Rabbits; 
Ham,    Eggs    an'    Red    Herrings    for 

wairsh  tasted  gabbets. 
If  at  ony  time  aught  else  should  be 

wanted 
We'll    raither   send   for  't  than    see 

freen's  disappointed. 


We  meet  to  be  merry,  then  let  us  part 

wise 
Nor  suffer  the  bottle  to  blind  reason's 

eyes. 


71 


s 


f~*  /"VTV* T  ¥       I  f~\  A   CT 

COTCH   1OA5 


Wi'  tippeny,  we  fear  nae  evil ; 
Wi'  usquebae,  we'll  face  the  devil ! 


Now  for  the  Doch  an'  Doris. 


r|i""i"iiiiuina,,,,M  i 

COTCHlOAST/ 


SOME 

AFTER  DINNER 
STORIES 


frl 


The  source  o*  joy  below, 
The  antidote  to  woe, 
And  the  only  proper  go, 
Is  drinking  drams. 
So    sang    George    Outram.      The 
barley  bree  is  peculiarly  national,  and 
is   responsible   for   an   extraordinary 
amount    of    wit    and    humour.      Of 
course  there  are  the  tragic  and  the 
pathetic  sides.    But,  as  is  related  else- 
where, "  A  kirk  withoot  a  hell's  just 

no  worth  a  d docken."     If  there 

had  been  less  harm  there  would  have 
been  less  fun  in  whisky.  When 
could  lemonade  make  a  man  "  Glo- 
rious, o'er  a'  the  ills  o'  life  victorious ! " 
What  a  pathetic  little  scene  is  that 
of  Hawkie,  the  well-known  Glasgow 
"  character,"  as  he  himself  describes 
it.  "  Wearied  out,  I  lay  down  at  the 
roadside  to  rest  me,  an'  a'  the  laddies 
were  saying  as  they  passed,  '  Haw- 


75 


q  o 


s 


kie's  drunk,'  an'  vext  was  I  that  it 
wasna  true." 


^> 


"  Was  ye  ever  drunk,  sir,"  inquired 
a  Perthshire  blacksmith  of  the  Free 
Church  minister  who  was  remon- 
strating with  him  for  excessive  indul- 
gence. "  No,  Donald,"  said  the  minis- 
ter, "  I  am  glad  to  say  I  never  was." 
"  I  thocht  as  muckle,"  said  the  smith; 
"  for  man,  if  ye  was  ance  richt  drunk, 
ye  wad  never  like  to  be  sober  a'  your 
days  again." 


A  Perthshire  village  tradesman  got 
on  the  "  batter "  and  did  not  return 
home  until  after  the  lapse  of  several 
days.  His  wife  met  him  in  the  door 
with  the  question,  "  Whaur  hae  ye 
been  a'  this  tune?  "  "  Perth,"  was 
the  sententious  reply.  "Perth!" 

76 


echoed  the  wife.  "  An'  what  was  ye 
doin'  sae  lang  in  Perth?  Nae  mortal 
man  could  be  doin'  gude  stayin'  in 
Perth  for  three  hale  days  on  end." 
"  Awa !  an'  no  haiver,  woman,"  was 
the  dry  reply,  "  plenty  o'  fouk  stay 
a'  their  days  in  Perth  an'  do  brawly." 


"  There's  death  in  the  cup ! "  ex- 
claimed a  violent  teetotal  lecturer  as 
he  rushed  up  to  where  an  old  farmer 
was  carefully  toning  his  dram  with 
water  from  a  huge  decanter.  More 
of  the  pura  had  flowed  forth  than 
was  intended,  and  eyeing  his  glass 
critically,  "  Hech,  an'  I  think  ye're 
richt,  freend,"  was  the  response, 
"  for  I've  droon'd  the  miller." 


Here  is  a  peculiar  form  of  "  drunk." 
The    grandfather    of    the    author    of 


77 


S 


"  Oor  Ain  Folk  "  sent  his  man 
Donald  to  dispose  of  a  skep  of  bees 
at  Edzell  market.  The  seductions  of 
the  fair,  etc.,  were  too  much  for 
Donald,  who  arrived  home  nearly 
"  blin'  fou  "  and  could  only  give  a 
long,  rambling  rigmarole  of  the  most 
imaginative  character  about  the  lost 
siller.  Seeing  clearly,  however,  what 
had  happened,  the  old  minister  in 
great  irritation  cut  him  short  with 
the  following  outburst  of  broadest 
vernacular:  "  Hoots!  ye  leein'  sumph, 
ye've  drucken  the  haill  hypothec;  I 
can  hear  the  vera  bees  bizzen  i'  yer 
wame  !  " 


Johnnie  Baxter,  of  Montrose,  was 
ordered  by  the  doctor  to  give  his  wife 
some  whisky.  Shortly  afterwards 
the  doctor  called  again,  and,  being 
rather  dubious  of  Johnnie's  moral 

78 


COTCtFToAST/ 


W 

o  01, 

«p  9  '4 


rectitude  when  whisky  was  in  ques- 
tion, asked  him  point  blank,  "  Weel, 
Johnnie,  did  ye  get  yer  wife  the 
stimulant  I  ordered?",  "  Ou  ay," 
said  Johnnie  with  a  hiccough,  "  I 
got  the  steemulant."  "  Ay,  but  did 
ye  administer  it? "  Then  Johnnie, 
with  a  fine  outburst  of  drunken 
candour,  said :  "  Weel,  as  fac's  deith, 
doctor,  I  got  the  whusky  for  her,  but 
ye  see  ye  tell't  me  she  couldna  last 
till  mornin',  and  that  naethin'  would 
dae  her  ony  guid,  so  I  jist  thocht  it's 
a  peety  tae  waste  guid  whusky,  and 
so,  doctor "  (this  with  a  sigh),  "  I 
jist  took  the  drappie  masel'  ; "  but 
he  hastened  to  add,  seeing  a  look  of 
strong  disgust  on  the  doctor's  face, 
"  I  gied  her  the  hooch  o't." 


For  the  pure  "  peat  reek  "  one  must 
go  away   to   the  far  north.     There 

79 


whisky  was  a  "  mercy,"  something 
sent  by  an  all-wise  Providence  to 
comfort  the  sons  of  men  in  all  their 
troubles.  Old  Andrew  Creach,  of 
Caithness,  was  the  reverse  of  a 
bigoted  teetotaler.  A  shepherd  ac- 
cused him  of  being  drunk,  and  quoted 
Scripture  to  the  effect  that  no  drunkard 
should  inherit  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
Andrew  retorted,  "  Ye  know  nothing 
about  it,  shir ;  what  does  the  Scripture 
say?  '  Whosoever  will,  let  him  take 
the  water  of  life  freely.'  That's  the 
Gospel  call,  and  I  tell  ye,  shir,  I  hope 
I'll  go  singing  fu'  ower  Jordan." 


A  hard-working  weaver  had  a  less 
Scriptural  explanation.  Recognizing 
that  the  only  social  relaxation  he 
could  possibly  enjoy  was  when  he 
met  his  cronies  to  interchange  ideas 

80 


fV 


§' 


over  a  tumbler  of  toddy,  and  on  being 
reproached  by  his  good  minister  for 
having  allowed  himself  to  be  over- 
come by  the  seductions  of  the  potent 
national  spirit,  he  said,  as  the  minister 
expressed  his  astonishment  that  he 
would  allow  his  love  for  whisky  to 
overcome  the  better  part  of  his 
nature :  "  Ah,  meenister,  it's  no  the 
whisky,  it's  the  '  here's  t'ye '  that  dis 
a'  the  mischief." 


There  is  an  old  story  of  one  man 
coming  into  a  public-house  and  ask- 
ing for  a  glass  of  whisky  because 
he  was  hot,  another  asking  for  one 
because  he  was  cold,  and  a  third 
because  he  liked  it. 


A  young  countryman  went  a  con- 
siderable distance  to  pay  a  visit  to  his 

81 


O    0 


s 


COTCH   OAST/' 


uncle  and  aunt  and  cousins,  who  were 
reputed  a  family  of  strict  teetotalers. 
During  his  first  meal  at  his  kinsman's 
table  the  young  man  commented  on 
the  absence  of  spirituous  liquors. 
"  We're  a'  temperance  folk  here,  ye 
ken,"  interrupted  the  old  man.  "  No 
spirituous  liquors  are  allowed  to  enter 
this  house."  After  dinner  the  old 
man  went  upstairs  to  take  his  cus- 
tomary "  forty  winks,"  the  girls  started 
off  to  Sunday  School,  and  the  boys 
lounged  away  to  smoke  in  the  stable. 
As  soon  as  Aunt  Petty  found  herself 
alone  hi  the  kitchen  she  put  her 
fore  finger  to  her  lips,  to  enjoin 
silence  on  the  part  of  her  youthful 
nephew,  and  going  to  a  dark  nook 
in  the  pantry,  she  drew  therefrom  a 
little  black  bottle,  and  fillirg  a  glass, 
held  it  cut  to  him  and  said,  "  Here, 
John,  tak'  a  taste  o'  that.  Our 
gudeman's  sic  a  strict  teetotaler  that 

82 


s 


COTCH  IOA.ST/ 


m 


** 


I  daurna  let  him  ken  that  I  keep  a 
wee  drap  in  the  hoose  —  just  for 
medicine.  So  dinna  mention  it."  A 
few  minutes  later  the  old  man  cried 
from  the  stairhead,  "  Are  you  there, 
John?  "  The  nephew  went  upstairs, 
when  the  head  of  the  house  took  him 
to  his  own  bedroom,  where  he  promptly 
produced  a  gallon-jar  of  whisky  from 
an  old  portmanteau  under  the  bed, 
and,  pouring  out  a  hearty  dram,  said : 
"  Teetotalin'  doesna  prevent  me  frae 
keepin'  a  wee  drap  o'  the  '  rale  peat 
reek'  in  case  o'  illness  or  that;  so 
here,  lad,  put  ye  that  in  yer  cheek; 
but  (confidentially)  not  a  word  aboot 
it  to  your  auntie,  or  the  laddies." 
Strolling  out  of  doors  after  this 
second  surprise,  and  entering  the 
stable,  the  cousins  beckoned  their 
relative  into  the  barn,  where  after 
fumbling  among  the  straw  for  a  few 
seconds,  they  handed  him  a  black 

83 


9  o 


s 


bottle,  with  the  encouraging  —  "  Tak' 
a  sook  o'  that,  cousin,  ye'll  find  it's 
gude;  but  not  a  word  to  the  old 
fouks,  mind,  for  twa  mair  infatuated 
teetotalers  were  never  born."  Such 
things  happen  also  in  the  State  of 
Maine  they  say.  [Ed. 


John  and  Betty  M'Dougal  went  to  a 
temperance  lecture  and  signed  the 
pledge.  On  their  way  home  they 
bought  a  bottle  of  whisky  to  have 
hi  the  house  hi  case  of  illness  — 
"  medicine,"  they  called  it.  About 
a  week  after  John  complained  of  not 
feeling  well,  and  said,  "  Betty,  wuman, 
I'm  no  weel;  I've  a  terrible  sair 
stamach.  Fetch  the  medicine;  quick, 
wuman,  quick."  Betty  brought  the 
bottle  and  held  it  up  to  the  light, 
and  said,  "  I  wush,  John,  there  may 


.  be  a  gless  in  it,  for  I've  had  a  terrible 
sair  stamach  mysel'  every  day  this 
week  !  " 

-$ 

Three  drovers  in  a  roadside  inn  met 
and  celebrated  —  in  whiskey.  There 
was  but  one  glass  and  that  with  no  foot 
to  it.  One  after  the  other  they  filled 
and  refilled  it,  one  of  them  saying 
gravely  each  time  it  came  to  his  turn, 
"  I  think  we  wadna  be  the  waur  of 
some  water,"  but  he  never  used  any. 


It  was  a  Scotchman  who  said  that 
porter  was  a  wholesome  beverage  if 
you  did  not  drink  more  than  a  dozen 
bottles! 

V 


^ft&3 

Ifel 


It  may  have  been  the  same  man  who 
observed,  "  Na,  na,  I  never  knew  ony- 


s 


COTCH 


body  killed  wi'  drinking;  but  I  hae    iwm 
kenned  some  that  deed  in  the  training."     •«*J 


"  Bend  well  to  the  Madeira  at  dinner, 
for  here  you'll  get  little  o't  after,"  was 
the  advice  given  to  a  fellow  guest  at 
the  table  of  a  friend  the  latter  was 
visiting  for  the  first  time. 


A  stag  party  below  stairs  broke  up 
late,  or  rather  early  in  the  morning. 
The  wife,  who  was  thrifty,  could  not 
sleep  for  the  thought  of  the  quantity  of 
whiskey  that  must  have  been  con- 
sumed. She  eagerly  called  down  the 
stairs  to  the  maid,  "How  many  bottles 
of  whiskey  have  they  used,  Betty?" 
The  girl,  who  had  not  to  pay  for  the 
whiskey  but  who  had  to  fetch  water 
from  the  well,  replied,  "I  dinna  ken, 

86 


/T 


OCOTCH 


mem,  but  they've  drunken  sax  gang  o' 
watter." 


When  men  used  to  drink  till  they 
fell  under  the  table,  one  of  a  party  who 
did  not  wish  to  go  to  excess  followed  the 
example  of  some  and  slid  to  the  floor; 
presently  he  felt  a  small  pair  of  hands 
about  his  throat.  On  asking  what  he 
was  doing  there  came  the  reply,  "  Sir, 
I'm  the  lad  to  lowse  the  neckties." 


COTCH  lOAST/1 


MISCELLANEOUS 
TOASTS  AND 

SENTIMENTS 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


A  chiel's  amang  ye  takin'  notes  and, 
faith,  he'll  prent  it ! 


A  garland  for  the  hero's  crest 

And  twined  by  her  whom  he  loves  best. 

«u> 

And  here's  to  a'  wha  drink  this  night, 
And  here's  to  them  that's  far  awa', 
And  muckle  joy  and  pure  delight. 


And  so  suppose  now,  while  the  things 

go  away, 
By  way  of  a  grace  we  all  stand  up  and 

say 
How  pleasant  it  is  to  have  money, 

heigh  ho, 
How  pleasant  it  is  to  have  money ! 


•t  0    0 


And  there  in  soul  sunshine,  shall  bloom 

evermore 
The  mem'ry  of  Burns,  the  bard  of  the 

Poor. 


Auld  Lang  Syne. 


Barley  rigs;  may  we  experience  a 
few  of  Burns'  happy  nights  among 
them. 


Dinna'  forget. 


God  loves  man  when  he  refrains  from 

sin, 
The  De'il  loves  man  when  he  persists 

therein, 


92 


TCH  lOAST/ 


The  world  loves  man,  when  riches  on 

him  flow, 
And  you'd  love  me  could  I  pay  what  I 

owe. 


Gude  nicht,  and  joy  be  wi'  you  a'. 
Gude  Nicht. 


Health  to  the  man,  death  to  the 
fish,  and  good  growth  to  all  in  the 
ground. 

Here's  to  him  that  has  the  right 
And  yet  received  the  wrang, 

Has  five  shillings  in  his  pouch 
And  yet  he  wants  a  crown. 


Here's  to  him  that's  out 

And  no  to  him  that  pits  him  out, 


93 


o  o 


s 


COTCH 


And  de'il  turn  all  their  insides  out 
That  doesna  drink  this  toast  about. 


Happy's  the  man  that  belongs  to  nae 

party 
But  sits  in  his  ain  house  and  looks  at 

Benarty. 


Here's  health  to  the  sick,  stilts  to  the 
lame,  claise  to  the  back  and  brose  to 
the  wame. 


Here's  health,  wealth,  wit  and  meal. 


F^.         V 

* 


Here's  to  a'  your  fouk  an'  a'  our 
fouk,  an'  a'  the  fouk  that's  been  kind 
to  your  fouk  an'  our  fouk;  an'  if  a' 
fouk  had  aye  been  as  kind  to  fouk  as 
your  fouk's  been  to  our  fouk,  there 

94 


COTCH  lO/VST/' 

wad  aye  hae  been  guid  fouk  i'  the 
warld  sin  fouks  bin  fouks. 


Here's  to  horn,  corn,  wool  and  yarn. 


1 


W 


In  politics  if  thou  would'st  mix, 
And  mean  thy  fortunes  be ; 

Bear  this  in  mind,  be  deaf  and  blind, 
Let  great  folks  hear  and  see. 

r 

sense  and  mair  siller. 


May  every  Scotchman  be  fed  with 
crowdy-mowdy,  lang-kail,  and  ranty- 
tanty. 

r 

May  liberty  meet  wi'  success ! 
May  prudence  protect  her  frae  evil ! 

95 


•*  5  o 


s 


COTCH 


May  tyrants  and  tyranny  tine  in  the    sf  .t, 

mist 
And  wander  their  way  to  the  devil. 


May  poortith  never  throw  us  in  the 
dirt,  or  gowd  into  the  high  saddle. 


May  the  mouse  ne'er  leave  our  meal 
pock  with  the  tear  hi  his  ee. 


May  the  winds  o'  adversity  never    ( 
blaw  open  our  door. 


May  want,  discontent  and  turbulence 

cease, 
May  men  live  thegither  hi  concord  and 

peace, 

96 


* 


COTCH  lOA.ST/'!! 


May  Scotland  aye  yield  a  rich  crop  an' 
'jffil  fleece 

il  1     To  keep  our  hands  full  wi'  the  spin- 
•VI  in'  o't. 


Nae  treasures,  nor  pleasures, 
Could  mak'  us  happy  lang; 

The  heart  aye's  the  part  aye, 
That  make's  us  right  or  wrang. 


- 


Of  all  the  arts  beneath  the  heaven 
That  man  has  found  or  God  has  given, 
None  draws  the  soul  so  sweet  away 
As  Music's  melting  mystic  lay. 


0'  a'  roads  to  pleasure  that  ever  were 

tried 
There's  nane  half  so  sure  as  our  ain 

fireside. 


97 


s 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


0  wad  some  pow'r  the  giftie  gie  us, 
To  see  oursels  as  others  see  us ! 
It  wad  frae  mony  a  blunder  free  us. 


Success  for  aye  to  the  guid  auld  game, 
To  the  grand  old  game  of  the  gowff . 


To  horny  hands  and  weather-beaten 
haffets  (cheeks). 

y 

®> 

To  the  rending  o'  rocks  and   the 
pu'in'  doun  o'  auld  houses. 


The  anniversary  of  St.  Andrew's  Day 
and  all  its  convivial  meetings. 

r 

The  Duke  of  Argyll  and  the  Camp- 
bell clan. 


98 


f 


SCOTCH  IOA.ST/" 


Let  the  waiter  bring  clean  glasses, 
With  a  fresh  supply  of  wine  — 

For  I  see  by  all  your  faces, 
In  my  wishes  you  will  join. 

It  is  not  the  charms  of  beauty, 
Which  I  purpose  to  explain, 

We  awhile  will  leave  that  duty, 
For  a  more  prevailing  theme. 


To  the  health  I'm  now  proposing, 
Let's  have  one  full  glass  at  least, 

No  one  here  can  think' t  imposing  — 
'Tis  —  "  The  Founder  of  the  Feast ! " 

5T 

The  Highland  fling :  may  it  ever  cast 
care  away. 

if 

The  nobles  of  Caledonia  and  their 
ladies. 


99 


»  9  o 


s 


f~* /"VT* /"» T  T 

COTCH 


The  poet  of  chivalry,  Sir  Walter  Scott. 


The   Scotch   bagpipe   but   not   the 
Scotch  fiddle. 


The  Scotch  Greys:    that  made  the 
Eagles  look  black. 

r 

The   Scotchman's  proverb:    Get  a 
good  price  but  give  good  measure. 


The  three  great  generals  —  General 
Peace,  General  Plenty  and  General 
Satisfaction. 

t 

Then  dormy  hame  we  can  sing  through 

the  round 
And  die  like  golfers  keen. 

100 


We've  played  fu'  wrell  the  short  game 

and  lang, 
The  game  on  the  golfing  green. 

5f 

Then  gently  scan  your  brother  man, 

Still  gentler  sister  woman; 
Tho'  they  may  gang  a  tennin  wrang, 

To  step  aside  is  human, 
Then  at  the  balance  let's  te  rrute, 

We  never  can  adjust  it; 
What's  done  we  partly  may  compute, 

But  know  not  what's  resisted. 

5f 

"  To  each  and  all  a  fair  good  night, 
And   pleasing   dreams   and   slumbers 
bright." 


J 


To  Edinburgh  —  the  penniless  lass 
wi'  the  lang  pedigree. 


101 


o  o 


s 


COTCH  1OAST/' 


To  Burns 

Touched  by  his  hand,  the  wayside  weed 
Becomes  a  flower;  the  lowest  reed 

Beside  the  stream 
Is   clothed   with  beauty;    gorse  and 

grass 

And  heather,  where  his  footsteps  pass 
The  brighter  seem. 


Ml 


To  Burns 

For  now  he  haunts  his  native  land 
As  an  immortal  youth;  his  hand 

Guides  every  plough  : 
He  sits  beside  each  ingle-nook; 
His  voice  is  in  each  rushing  brook 

Each  rustling  bough. 


To  the  memory  of  Sir  Ralph  Aber- 
cromby,  and  may  the  laurels  which 
Scotland  gained  when  he  fell  bloom  to 


102 


IOCOTCH  IQA.ST/' 

the  latest  ages  untarnished  by  any  of 
her  future  warriors. 


To  the  memory  of  Robert  Bruce. 

5T 


To    the   Shakespeare  of    novelists, 
Sir  Walter  Scott. 


Up  wi'  my  ploughman,  lad, 
And  hey  my  merry  ploughman, 

Of  a'  the  trades  that  I  do  ken 
Commend  me  to  the  ploughman. 

5f 

When  driving  ceases,  may  we  still  be 
able 

To  play  the  shorts,  putt  and  be  com- 
fortable. 


103 


9  o 


^     -      -        •  if       ^      '   "   R 

O  COTCH  lOAST/* 


Yonder's  the  moon,  I  ken  her  horn, 
She's  blinkin'  in  the  lift  sae  hie ; 
She  shines  fu'  bright  to  wyle  us  hame, 
But  by  my  sooth  she'll  wait  a  wee ! 


3J^^ 

1 


104 


—  p. 


COTCH 


SCOTTISH  TOASTS 
A  MISCELLANY 


COTCH  lOAST/ 


'  r~^ 


OCOTCH 


Most  folks  give  their  sentiments  after 

their  song, 

But  I  cannot  say  that  is  my  teacher; 
To  part  heart  and  harmony  sure  must 

be  wrong, 

Song  and  Sentiment  I  join  together : 
So  at  once  in  a  Song  I'll  my  Sentiments 

give, 
Sure  you'll  all  approve  what  I  am 

giving  — 
"  Here's  our  noble  selves,  and  long  may 

we  live, 

With  dear  Scotland,   the  land  that 
we  lived  in." 

Then  here's  "  Lovely  Woman !  "  each 

man  will  drink  that, 
For  in  each  care  and  ill  she'll  re- 
lieve him; 

"  Sweet  home,"  for  though  homely, 
'tis  home  for  all  that, 


107 


•to  o 


s 


COTCH 


With  "  a  friend  and  a  bottle  to  give 

him." 
Here's    "  may    honour   and    honesty 

never  decline," 
'Tis  the  wish  of  my  heart,  I  assure 

ye; 
"  May   justice    and    mercy   for   ever 

entwine," 
With  our  glorious  "  Trial  by  Jury." 

May  the  moment  now  present,  of  life 

be  the  worst, 
May  the  honest  heart  ne'er  know 

distress, 
May  we  have  in  our  arms  what  in 

heart  we  love  best, 
All  those  that  bless  us  may  we  bless. 
"  A  good  trade  and  well  paid  "  which 

ensures  "  peace  and  plenty;  " 
"  Honest  men,  pretty  women  "  for 

ever! 

"  Playhouses   full,   and   Workhouses 
empty," 

108 


1 


I 


COTCH  IOA.ST/ 

And  "  may  worth  and  want  finally 
sever." 

"  Here's  the  heart  that  can  feel  for 

another's  distress," 
And  "  the  man  that  was  never  un- 
grateful; " 
Here's  "  may  we  the  smiles  of  good 

humour  possess, 
With  friends  around,  cheerful  and 

faithful." 
Here's  "  our  own  wooden  walls,"  that 

still  lay  our  foes  flat, 
With  those  treasures,  wives,  chil- 
dren, and  friends, 
"  Here's  our  own  noble  selves,"  and 

now  having  drank  that, 
Here  my  Song  of  good  Sentiment 
ends. 


THE   END. 


109 


COTCH  lOAST/* 


r^f 


OCOTCH  lOAST/ 


•™^£  i*1 

^ 

0    2  »:, 


COTCH  lOAST/' 


OCQTCH 


A    000  711  674    2 


Ml 


!)' 


